


Non-Work Related Activities at Work

by MystiqueAstist, orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, English translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 02:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystiqueAstist/pseuds/MystiqueAstist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Inspired by a trivia provided by a friend: James and Q’s first meeting was filmed at 4 am.The story before their ‘official’ introduction to each other.Unbeta-ed and contains slight spoilers. Please tread carefully when reading.





	Non-Work Related Activities at Work

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [工作时间的非工作内容](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286617) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Original author's note: inspired by a trivia provided by a friend: James and Q’s first meeting was filmed at 4 am, so I added my own imagination and wrote it without much thought.  
> The story before their ‘official’ introduction to each other. 
> 
> Unbeta-ed and contains slight spoilers. Please tread carefully when reading.  
>  
> 
> Translator's note: first time translating and unbeta-ed, so constructive criticism/suggested edits would be helpful! I've tried my best to stick to the original text, but sometimes it was necessary to 'tweak' some things due to differences in the two languages' syntaxes and vocabulary. Even so, I've striven to retain the core meaning of the words and phrases.

Bond had been feeling dizzy even since he left M’s office. He was sure that there was no way he could pass the physical, but M let him go anyway. It was, and wasn’t a miracle. There was still an entire afternoon and an entire night between now and his meeting with his new Quartermaster. Maybe he could kill the time with someone, somewhere. But first, he had to find something to eat, somewhere. 

Bond had his eye on the bakery closest to MI6. Carbohydrates would do. Practical enough. He randomly picked two loaves from the shelf and prepared to pay at the counter. Then, he caught sight of the man sitting behind the small table for customers in the corner.

 _Still a young boy_ , Bond thought, _look at that messy hair and those freckles on his face._

That boy was looking at the screen in front of him. When he detected Bond’s gaze upon him, he met his eyes squarely and the corners of his mouth lifted up maliciously. That expression could be described as cunning, and Bond could tell that something was hidden beneath it. Since he had never seen the boy around MI6 before, he could eliminate the guess that the smile was one of scorn towards his colleagues. But why did his face scream ‘I know it all’? Never mind, he was just a teen. Maybe his uncontrollable hormones were compelling him to hit on every passer-by.

 

* * *

 

You really can’t judge the young people nowadays by their cover. That disheveled little boy had turned up again - Bond had run into him in the bar. Like before, he was sitting in the corner, looking at the screen in front of him, a bird nest made of hair on his head, fingertips typing away on the keyboard: _tap-tap-tap._ And what the hell was he wearing? Most people come here to attract a potential ‘mate’; if then, why didn’t he at least clean himself up a bit to make himself more appealing?

Bond might have frowned at the young man for too long. He lifted his eyes off the screen, and gave Bond another all-knowing smile, same as the one that he gave him during the day. The lights in the bar were too dim for Bond to make out every detail about him. With the screen’s blue-white light cast upon his face, he seemed even more mysterious than he did in the daylight, much like a wizard. Embarrassed, Bond averted his gaze, pretending not to have noticed him.

A nerd who preferred to work in a bar. Whatever. Judging his age, he was probably browsing porn sites that his parents made forbidden at home.

Bond took a sip of the drink in front of him. Good, the blue light behind him, reflected onto the surface of his glass, had disappeared. He could almost hear the ‘clap’ of the boy snapping his laptop shut. As he listened to the little sounds of the boy putting his things away, Bond put his elbow on the bartop and leaned onto it, pretending not to notice the figure approaching him.

‘You’ve been looking at me,’ The boy sat down onto the bar stool next to him. 

‘And you’ve been following me.’ Bond hit back.

‘Well, I got here first.’

‘It’s my habit to come here. I’ve never seen you around before, no matter here, or, uh, near the offices.’ Bond hoped that he sounded as unaffected as he wanted to. The boy laughed lightly. Oh good. So he didn’t. 

‘Okay, I admit that I’ve been stalking you, but I’m doing it for work.’ The boy waved his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, and the waistcoat-wearing server came up to them. ‘I would like---’

‘A strawberry milkshake for him.’ Bond cut in. He turned his head to look at the boy. ‘Are you even of age?’

The boy looked irritated, but the cool smirk quickly returned. ‘Alright, I understand that alcohol is prohibited during working hours. Of course, I’m past the legal drinking age. Do you need to check my ID, sir?’

‘You’re still ‘working’ at this hour? What’s your job?’ Bond was amused. _Plus in a bar?_

The bartender actually delivered a glass of strawberry milkshake. Bond had no idea that the menus nowadays covered that many items. 

The boy pushed his glasses up and took a sip of the milkshake. ‘I don’t think it would be appropriate to discuss this here. Perhaps you’ll have a chance to know someday.’

Bond’s eyes widened, watching the boy’s tongue darting out and licking away the foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. Those moist red lips were pursed again. Although he could count the number of times he’d fucked men on one hand, that mouth seemed really suitable for giving blowjobs. Bond made a rough guess of the boy’s ‘not-suitable-for-discussions-in-public’ career. With the fact that they weren’t colleagues, plus being numbed by alcohol and desire, he felt his brain urging his mouth to say something not very appropriate. ‘Perhaps I will know someday? Then why don’t you let me figure it out tonight, with that smart mouth of yours---’ 

‘God knows what you’re thinking,’ the young man’s smile caused his eyes to squint. ‘If you’re really as competent as you claim to be, then you’ll realise that I have a laptop. I’m not---’ He felt Bond’s hand skimming over his body and a wave of electricity ran through him under his parka. Next, he was swept into a lustful kiss.

  _Competency. What competency._ Q was done in. He wrapped a hand around Bond’s neck, and said in between kisses, ‘Okay, if you insist…’

 

* * *

 

This was probably the most befuddled shag Q had ever had. He was taken away like a dish, and he had no time to notice where they were as he was too busy handling the agent. He was brought into a hotel, dragged into a lift and shoved up against the door. God, Q didn’t want to be fucked like this. He instinctively bit at Bond’s roaming mouth, and that counted as his revenge for being mistaken as a prostitute. With his hand on Bond’s tie, he viciously flung him down onto the bed and straddled the agent.

‘I really shouldn’t underestimate young people.’ Bond’s head was spinning, and the boy smiled again. He felt the young man’s agile fingers undoing his tie, then his shirt. The boy’s cool fingertips glided over his body, from his chest to his waistband. He really was skilled, to be able to undo so many buttons in such a short while.

Q lifted himself up and pushed his underwear and trousers down to his knees, before shaking them off to let them join their jackets on the ground. He then pulled down Bond’s zip.

Fuck, he wasn’t wearing any pants. ‘You---’

‘Oh, child, wearing underwear would ruin the trousers’ shape.’ Bond grabbed his hand and kissed it lightly.

This title riled Q up. He angrily pulled his wrist away, lowered his body and pushed his arse out. ‘If you insist to treat me like a kid, then you’ll have to fuck me until I call you,’ he licked a stripe up Bond’s erection and gave a hard suck at the tip. ‘Daddy.’

That felt too good. The young man’s beautiful, wet lips were wrapped around his cock, accompanied by sobs coming out of his throat. Regardless of whether he really did this for a living, this level of ‘competency’ was rare among the people Bond had brought to bed. That warm mouth, that flexible tongue, that head bobbing in between breaths, light licks and kisses. His pink cheek against his hard prick, geeky glasses flung somewhere else, precum smeared all over his face. Bond grabbed his mussed-up hair and thrusted into his mouth, causing the boy to let out a cry-like moan. His eyelids were lowered, expression enchanted and worn out, reddened lips glistening and open. Bond tugged the boy up and swept him into another lingering kiss.

 _Shouldn’t have fronted,_ Q thought regretfully, still caught up in the kiss. His mouth was sore and he had tried his best to suck Bond off, but that goddamned agent didn’t even seem to have the slightest intention to budge, not even a little bit. The truth was, it had been a long time since Q had had penetrative sex, and he wasn’t sure if that big cock would fit inside him.

‘Work harder, little boy,’ Bond whispered against Q’s lips, giving Q’s arse a suggestive slap. Q’s face turned red swiftly, and he felt something shoved into his hand. That old bastard, did he just hand Q lube and order him to do the work himself? Q was used to washing himself, but even he wouldn’t expect to fall into Bond’s bed one day, though he really was sexy…

He slowly stretched himself in front of Bond, pressing his slick fingers into his hole, trying to adjust his breathing and relax. Shit, he was too nervous. He had squeezed out too much lube and the liquid dripped down his thigh, which was slung over Bond’s side. Bond stroked his flanks and laughed. He dipped his calloused fingers into the gleaming lube, and one of them slipped inside of Q, along with Q’s own fingers.

‘Fuck you---’ It hurt, but it felt amazing. He placed one of his hands onto Bond’s chest. That move just then hit his gland. He spread his trembling legs further apart and removed his fingers from his hole, leaning onto Bond to steady himself. Listening to the boy’s moans against his neck, Bond added two more fingers and started pumping.

Q found a rhythm and he began to move his hips with Bond’s fingers. Bond slid them out, and the insatiable boy sat down, chasing his fingers. The agent held his cock in one hand and held the boy’s waist with the other, before guiding him to sit down onto it.

Bond didn’t want to wait for him to adjust. Q looked like a debauched virgin, his throat letting out salacious ‘ahs’ when Bond bottomed out. Q leaned onto Bond’s shoulder and slowly rocked his hips, arching back once his channel got used to the intrusion. His own erect cock was plastered to his abdomen, shiny fluids leaking. He started to grind, hands behind him, body going up and down to work the prick inside of him. It rubbed over his prostate, again and again. The agent’s rough palms trailed over the sensitive skin of his waist, mouth leaving bite marks on his neck and shoulders.

Q never knew he could make so much noise. Everything, from the dick in his arse to the agent’s wandering hands and lips, all made him moan loudly and demand Bond to go faster. The agent wrapped his arms around the skinny thing, gripped his waist and started fucking him, brutal and fast. The young man held himself up with one hand and touched himself with the other. He was almost there, his slippery hand rapidly working his cock, his slim neck arched high. Bond wouldn’t allow such cheating, so he pinned the boy’s hands to his back, slamming into him even harder.

Bond fucked Q to his climax amid his broken moans. He came messily and went limp in the older man’s arms, exhausted. ‘I think, someone should make you your own brand of physical exam…’ Q sighed. The agent’s hard dick remained inside of him. He attempted to lift his arse up, but Bond stopped him.

‘Of course you’ll find a way.’ Bond mumbled in between kisses, changing their positions so that the boy was now under him. ‘Remember, save your energy and try not to scream that much.’

 

* * *

 

The alarm, something that Bond didn’t know he had, woke him up at 4 AM. Annoyed, he picked up the beeping watch and threw it into the sink. The boy from last night was gone, and he hadn’t even got his name. Alright, he’d guessed wrong, and the boy obviously wasn’t a sex worker seeking out clients. He came inside a stranger without a condom on and now suddenly he had another notch on his bedpost. Vexed, he rubbed his face and tried to wake himself up with a cold shower. When the spray hit the back of his head, he remembered another troubling matter: he had to go to that fucking gallery to meet his new Q.

Bond sat down in front of the painting that depicted a large ship. He heard the rustling of clothes, and that reminded him of the parka-wearing boy from last night. So he refused to look at the newcomer. _Not very professional_ , he thought.

Then he heard a very familiar, yet slightly hoarse voice.

‘Always makes me feel a little melancholy…’

 

* * *

 

‘A grand old warship being ignominiously hauled away for scrap.’ the boy from last night turned his head to look at Bond, ‘The inevitability of time, don't you think?’

‘If you’re trying to mock the sexual prowess of your elders, I think you probably got your reply last night. It’s time to stop your stalking, and I don’t care what your intent---’

‘007, I’m your new Quartermaster.’


End file.
